TWENTY
George and Melitta dragged barrels and bales from the longhouse, stacking them up in the clearing outside. He couldn't help darting worried glances at the bandits each time they were in view, but the thunderous snoring was oddly reassuring.
Then Melitta came out of the door, carrying a burning brand.
"We could just leave," George suggested. "Let the king's men catch up with them and administer justice."
"I won't let them r**e another woman," Melitta insisted.
His blood ran cold. "Did they...?" he began, staring at her.
She glared back. "No. And if we kill them before they wake, they won't." She hefted her makeshift torch.
"You can't burn the building. It's sod. The best it will do is smoulder," George told her. He felt oddly relieved by the admission. She would have work
